Remember Moby? The bald dude who had that video with Christina Ricci? And another with Gwen Stefani? The guy who's album Play sold in excess in ten million copies?
Yeah. Don't really like the music. Find it kind of boring, as a matter of fact.
The odd thing was it took me years to figure this out. Play was one of those records everyone loved, and I always thought that if I could just listen to it one more time I would figure it out, I'd crack the code and be lifted into the waiting arms of Mr. Richard Melville Hall (actually, that is one really cool thing I didn't know - his middle name is Melville, and his public name is Moby. Get it? Right? Sigh, I'm such a nerd), who would give me one of those bromance hugs and welcome me to the fold. His videos were visually striking, and in interviews he always came off as wickedly cool and someone you want to know, you know?
Except it never happened. Despite buying Play. And 18. And Hotel. I kept picking the Moby lock, but to no avail. I thought my years of chipping away at the stone would reward me in the same way The Rolling Stones did (though it took almost ten years and Let It Bleed to finally turn me around). But in the end, it was just not meant to be.
No hard feelings, let's stay friends and all that. Besides, I'm sure I'll just wind up trying again anyway. The cover to 18 hypnotizes me, compelling me to try yet again...